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FALLEN ASLEEP

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 5, 1878

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 52, No. 23.

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FALLEN ASLEEP.

It becomes our painful duty to record the death of Mary F. Andrews, only daughter of Eld. J. N. Andrews, who departed this life at 4:30 A. M., Nov. 27, 1878, aged 17 years, 1 month, and 29 days. Her disease, tuberculous consumption, made constant and rapid progress, terminating in death as above stated. She was brought here with the hope that medical skill at the Sanitarium or the prayer of faith might rescue her from this threatening malady; but the physicians from the first pronounced her case beyond the reach of human remedies; and it has not proved to be the will of God to raise her up. We bow in submission to his providence, knowing that at last it will be seen to be both wise and merciful. She is now safely shielded from the evils to come, and rests in bright hope of immortality. The providence of God is seen in bringing her to this place, where she could receive the care and attention that could not well have been bestowed elsewhere. Faithfully her father watched over her, bearing her, as it were, in his own arms gently down to the grave. His presence and attentions were a great comfort to her, and a sad but appropriate privilege for him.
The funeral, Nov. 30, was attended by the largest congregation that has ever attempted to gain an entrance to our house of worship. After a few remarks by the writer on Eccl. 12:1, Bro. Andrews himself made a very earnest and touching appeal to the youth in behalf of the silent sleeper before them, urging them, by her unselfish consecration and faithfulness in her youthful years, to devote themselves to the service of God, and to his work which so much needs their help. It was a most impressive occasion, the effects of which, we trust, will not be lost.
The following lines by Sister Mary Martin, written in reference to this bereavement, will fitly conclude this brief tribute to her memory:—
“Mournfully, tenderly”—only One knows All the strange emptiness, greater than pain,— How much our life has been blended, and goes Down to the grave with the funeral train.
Blest be the hand that in kindness hath given Treasure our clinging hearts gladly would keep; Equally blest, that the tie is now riven; So gently, “He giveth his loved one sleep.”
Free from the blighting of sorrow or pain, Coming, redeemed, from the Enemy’s land; Joyfully, soon shall we meet her again, Radiant with youth ’mid the glorified band.